


as pure as new york snow

by alykapedia



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Honey Trap Mission, M/M, Minor Violence, prayer circle for viktor's dick, spy AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-22
Updated: 2017-12-22
Packaged: 2019-02-18 12:06:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13099743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alykapedia/pseuds/alykapedia
Summary: These are the facts:1.	The coffee maker in their breakroom has been there since Viktor was a tiny, waif-like thing;2.	It produces subpar coffee at best, and shitty tar at worst;3.	Yakov refuses to replace it mostly on principle, citing some bullshit about character building through awful coffee or some such; and4.	The beautiful, beautiful intelligence officer, Yuuri Katsuki, always visits it every Thursday afternoon to pour the last dregs of terrible coffee into his blue, poodle-print mug.





	as pure as new york snow

**Author's Note:**

  * For [forochel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/forochel/gifts), [insidetwizzles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/insidetwizzles/gifts), [flammablehat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/flammablehat/gifts).



> M E R R Y C R I S I S!! Also!! Happy Anniversary to the last YOI ep!! 
> 
> I posted the first part of this back on my tumblr a very, very long time ago and I've finally completed it!! Like. Just now!! Thanks to [forochel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/forochel/pseuds/forochel), [insidetwizzles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/insidetwizzles/pseuds/insidetwizzles), and [flammablehat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/flammablehat/pseuds/flammablehat) for yelling excitedly about this with me when I showed them the unfinished parts. Thank you for being excited, babes, it really warms the cockles of my heart :') 
> 
> Looked this over pretty fast so hmu for any terrible mistakes!!

These are the facts:

  1. The coffee maker in their breakroom has been there since Viktor was a tiny, waif-like thing;
  2. It produces subpar coffee at best, and shitty tar at worst;
  3. Yakov refuses to replace it mostly on principle, citing some bullshit about character building through awful coffee or some such; and
  4. The beautiful, beautiful intelligence officer, Yuuri Katsuki, always visits it every Thursday afternoon to pour the last dregs of terrible coffee into his blue, poodle-print mug.



 

Viktor has his exact timing down to the very last nanosecond and has taken to skipping out on his daily sparring sessions with Yuri just to catch the man and engage him in a stilted conversation about the weather. He's already grimacing into his mug when Yuuri appears, a vision swathed in an oversized grey cable-knit sweater over a white button-up and a pair of maroon chinos.

"Hi, Yuuri!"

Yuuri, as always, startles. As if they haven't been _coincidentally_ running into each other every Thursday for the past three months now. Pretty brown eyes widen behind ugly glasses and Viktor would swoon if he wasn't trying to swallow tar without gagging.

"Hello, Viktor."

And there it is, the _smile_. It's the sole highlight of Viktor's week and it is his goal to see that smile every day for the rest of his life. Viktor has yet to make this vision a reality, but for now he has Thursdays. Even if it does come with a mouthful of shitty coffee.

Except Yuuri doesn't have his blue mug with him. Instead, there's a familiar-looking Kraft folder in his hands.

Ah.

Looks like they won't be discussing the weather after all.

"Anything interesting?" He asks, putting down his mug of terrible, horrible coffee and nodding towards the folder.

Yuuri bites down on his lower lip, the flesh going red and plump at the abuse, and Viktor _wants_. "We'll be working together," he says, handing the folder over. "Two from your team and two from mine."

One look at the folder’s contents has Viktor frowning.

"A honey trap?"

Yuuri grimaces and nods.

"A honey trap."

 

.

 

Yuri, predictably, does not take the news well. He and Viktor are the only ones from their team available for the mission, what with Mila and Georgi still slogging through the Amazon. And with Viktor having long graduated from honey trap missions, there’s really only one option for it.

"I'm not going to do a fucking honey trap," the blond snarls, throwing the folder down in disgust as he glares at Yakov. "You can't make me."

"No one's making you," Yakov says in his usual long-suffering tone. "Celestino's team is doing the honeytrap and you two are to make sure the extraction goes smoothly."

"Celestino's team?" Yuri snorts incredulously. "They're sending Chulanont and Katsudon." He says the names as if they've personally offended him, and Viktor would berate him for it, but well, even Viktor did wonder at the choice of agents. Especially Yuuri, who is beautiful and soft and as pure as the driven snow, and has really no business in participating in a mission that involves seduction.

From her seat beside Yakov, Lilia raises a perfectly manicured eyebrow. "You should know better than to judge a book by its cover, Yuri Plisetsky."

The remark is addressed to Yuri, but Viktor feels its bite all the same.

 

.

 

And it’s with good reason too, because Viktor spends the first minute of their mission feeling wrong-footed when they find Phichit at the hotel room they’re using as a headquarters of sorts, instead of Yuuri.

"What are _you_ doing here?" Yuri splutters, saving Viktor the trouble of asking.

Phichit blinks from where he's setting up several laptops and what looks like a signal jammer. "Uh. This is my station?"

"What about Yuuri?" Viktor asks, even as his mind quickly points out that if Phichit was here and evidently preparing to hack into the system, then Yuuri had to be—

"Prepping for his performance?" Phichit answers like it's the most obvious thing in the world. He gives Viktor and Yuri bemused stares before his face morphs into understanding, and then amusement, as he dissolves into raucous laughter. "Oh. Oh my god. Did you think _I_ was the _honey_?” He asks, incredulous. “I mean, I’m totally flattered, don't get me wrong, but Yuuri’s our go-to guy for honey trap missions for a reason."

Yuri looks as if everything he thought he knew about Yuuri Katsuki has been razed to the ground and Viktor knows that he probably looks the same, if the way Phichit is still giggling uncontrollably as he types something on one of the laptops, is any indication.

"Yuuri says he’s ready so better get to position, boys,” Phichit chirps, looking far too pleased with himself, before adding with a saucy wink, “and try not to get too distracted."

 

.

 

 These are _apparently_ the facts:

  1. Beautiful, beautiful intelligence officer Yuuri Katsuki, who wears soft and oversized sweaters and looks so far removed from the realm of sex, turns out to be the infamous _Eros_ ;
  2. His physical eval results are ridiculously insane and it’s no wonder that he’s broken most of Viktor’s academy records;
  3. Yuuri can probably quit his job and make a killing as a stripper; and
  4. Viktor is so incredibly and painfully attracted to him.



 

“I can’t believe you didn’t know this,” Chris’ voice drawls from the earpiece, and it’s a testament to their tech department’s skill that Viktor can hear the condescension even with the noise inside the club.  “You’ve been meeting with Yuuri for coffee for what, three months now and you didn’t know that he’s our most successful honey trap agent?”

“I wanted to get to know him normally!” Viktor hisses, because he’s a hopeless romantic at heart and maybe he’d fantasized about asking Yuuri out for coffee and holding his hand, and pulling up Yuuri’s file like a creepy stalker didn’t seem very conducive to Viktor’s dreams of marrying him. “Also, his physical evals are insane! Why is he not on the field?”

“He’s much better at strategizing so the higher-ups put him in control. It’s such a shame though,” Chris sighs wistfully, before continuing, “Watching Yuuri at work got me through some pretty lonely nights.”

Viktor already has a scathing reply at the ready, but before he can do much more than open his mouth, someone was carding a hand through his hair and sliding into his lap, and the next thing he knows, he’s looking up at familiar brown eyes framed by thick, dark lashes.

_Oh, fuck._

He feels his breath catch in the general vicinity of his throat, right beside where his heart had lodged itself, as he takes Yuuri in. Gone are the corset and the gauzy robe he’d been wearing earlier, and in their stead, Yuuri was clad only in a black lace thong and sheer, black stockings held up by a lace garter belt. "Hi,” Viktor chokes out as he tears his eyes away from Yuuri’s nipples which are very, very pink.

Yuuri's smile is slow and sweet, plump lips curving under pink gloss. "Arthur says you thought he was doing the honey trap."

"I—" Viktor starts, only to be cut off by Yuuri's sudden grip on his tie, pulling him closer. Movement at his left catches his attention and Viktor subtly transfers his gaze to their target, who's looking at Viktor with open dislike. Viktor bares his teeth at the man and lets himself grab a handful of Yuuri’s ass for show. "Target at my ten. How are you planning to do this?"

Sliding closer so that he was practically draped over Viktor’s front (and can probably feel the semi Viktor was definitely sporting), Yuuri whispers, "from our intel, we know that he likes pretty little things, and that he's very, very competitive."

“I’d be very competitive too for a pretty thing like you,” Viktor murmurs almost absently, too busy keeping an eye on their target who’d called up one of his men, to notice the all-too natural blush now burning on Yuuri’s cheeks at his words. “Where do you want me?” He finally asks just as Yuuri’s attention is called by one of their target’s cronies.

Yuuri winks and says with a smile that will haunt Viktor’s dreams forever, “Somewhere you can watch.”

 

.

 

By no means is Viktor a religious man. The last time he’d been inside a church, he’d slit a Pakhan’s throat with an ornamental letter opener and set the whole thing on fire because the entire mission had ended up being compromised. But watching Yuuri crush someone’s head with his thighs and take down two men twice his size effortlessly may just be enough to make him into one. He’ll gladly do away with the trappings of Orthodox Christianity and spend the rest of his days worshipping at the altar of Yuuri Katsuki.

Viktor’s pretty confident that he can go and start a religion about those thighs.

Before Viktor can continue with that line of thought, a group of men pour inside the room, guns out and pointed at Yuuri, and well, Viktor can’t have that. So he jumps down from the vents and shoots some unfortunate lackey point-blank on the forehead, the Tokarev cold and familiar in his hands. Viktor fires four more shots—carotid, orbit, jugular, trachea—bodies falling to the ground in quick succession as Yuuri vaults over their target’s body and reaches for the laptop sitting abandoned on a nearby armchair.

“When I told you to go somewhere you can watch,” Yuuri begins, his tone droll as he starts up the laptop with quick, efficient movements. There’s the familiar whirr of the laptop fan as Yuuri tinkers with it, pausing to shoot Viktor a bland look that has him feeling chastised for half a moment before Yuuri says, “I didn’t mean for you to _just_ watch.”

Cheeks burning, Viktor puts up his hands in surrender. “Ah,” he breathes out, moving around the bodies and taking a peek over Yuuri’s shoulder at the laptop screen where one of Phichit’s programs was systematically and rapidly copying and deleting every last shred of data in its path. “But you were handling the situation quite well. It felt such a shame to interrupt,” he says, collapsing into the armchair with a placid smile.

“You mean you were too distracted to do your job.”

Viktor really shouldn’t find Yuuri’s wry amusement as hot as he does, much like he should really stop putting his foot inside his own mouth. “Well, it is rather impressive to see you fight in those heels.” But just as the song says, we can’t always get what we want, and it may, in fact, be impossible for Viktor to not make a fool of himself in front of Yuuri Katsuki.

Yuuri huffs before whirling around to plant a foot right between Viktor’s legs, inches away from the family jewels. “Just the heels?” Yuuri asks sweetly, as if he hadn’t just given Viktor a heart attack and the quickest boner Viktor’s ever had.

“The heels complete the look,” Viktor manages to choke out.

Yuuri merely raises an eyebrow at him like he knows all about the very vivid visions Viktor’s had just now about him wearing nothing but those heels and stepping on Viktor’s dick, and is mildly disappointed. It’s a really good look on him. Or maybe Viktor’s just a complete pervert who should never be allowed near Yuuri ever again. He’s about to apologize when a clatter sounds from outside, just as Phichit— _Arthur_ —quips something about _reinforcements incoming, you two should really stop flirting_ , and Yuuri is holding out a hand, eyes going sharp.

“Gun.”

“You mean to say you don’t have one hidden somewhere?” Viktor says, babbles, as the footsteps come closer, before he’s mindlessly handing Yuuri the Tokarev and asking, in a fit of insanity, “Think you can handle a Russian one?”

Yuuri’s reply to that question comes in the form of four bodies arranged neatly on the carpeted floor. All of them with a single, perfect bullet hole lodged in the middle of their foreheads.

“You tell me.”

 

.

 

The dressing down Yakov gives him after the mission is nothing short of epic.

It lasts for about half an hour, and at one point, Yakov devolves into yelling at him in Russian. The last time Yakov had scolded him in Russian, Viktor was twenty-one and completely fucked up an operation that almost got himself killed. In contrast, this mission has been wildly successful and the only thing that got hurt was Viktor’s dignity.

(And Yuri, who ran into a wall after seeing Yuuri.)

Viktor doesn’t mind the scolding. Not really. He’s spent most of his life weathering Yakov’s tirades and he’s more than used to them.

What he does mind is Yakov implying in so many words that it was all Yuuri’s fault, which of course, inevitably leads to Yuuri avoiding Viktor like the plague.

Which means no shitty Thursday coffee.

 

.

 

These are _currently_ the facts:

  1. It’s been three weeks since the mission and Yuuri was _still_ avoiding him;
  2. Viktor has taken to staying at the barracks to catch Yuuri but he has yet to succeed; and
  3. He’s getting desperate.



 

Which is why Viktor is currently standing by the doorway of the eastern wing break room and being stared down by Yuuri’s team.

“You have an espresso machine,” is _not_ what Viktor means to say when he finally gathers the wherewithal to speak, but that’s what he ends up saying because the universe hates him. That, and because the sleek and professional-looking espresso machine humming at the corner and filling the room with the unmistakable scent of freshly brewed coffee is terribly distracting.

Phichit, who’s been staring at him with beady eyes, blinks before a wide grin splits his face. He makes a point of humming and takes a pointed sip of from his mug, and says, "It’s a gift from Ciao Ciao's wife when she found out our old one broke, _oh_ , about four months ago."

Now it’s Viktor’s turn to blink. If Celestino’s wife had gifted them an espresso machine four months ago, then—

"Why is Yuuri suffering through your break room’s frankly terrible excuse for coffee?" Sara asks, giving voice to the question forming in Viktor’s mind with a cheeky grin. "I wonder."

"Maybe the Russians do it better." Guang-hong Ji—the sniper—suggests with an angelic smile that’s anything but.

Leo de la Iglesia huffs out a laugh before giving Viktor a once-over. "Or maybe it's the view."

“It’s both,” Seung-gil Lee from the Tech department, who Viktor has never heard speak before, says flatly.

Viktor would like to blame it on Seung-gil’s emotionless delivery, but it honestly takes him an embarrassingly long time to get it, and by the time he finally does, everyone’s watching him in rapt attention tinged with just the slightest bit of judgment.

“ _Oh_.”  

Rolling his eyes, Seung-gil says, “He’s at the shooting range. Ask him out and put us all out of our misery.”

 

.

 

Just as Seung-gil had said, Viktor finds Yuuri at the shooting range, wreaking absolute havoc on the poor, defenseless targets.

He takes a moment to just admire Yuuri: the subtle shift of his muscles, the fall of his dark hair over his eyes, the adorable scrunch of his nose. Viktor can spend an entire lifetime watching Yuuri and it still wouldn’t be enough. Because Yuuri is beautiful in every iteration and Viktor wants to know every single one, wants to one day see Yuuri in oversized pyjamas, sleep-mussed and blinking blearily at him over a cup of coffee.

Once Yuuri’s emptied out the magazine and was in the process of reloading, Viktor finally saunters over, making sure to make noise as the last thing he needs is to get shot. Although of course, with how Yuuri has put the gun—a Sig Sauer 1911—down, shoulders drawing up, it’s more than likely that he knows he isn’t alone.

“I am absolutely furious with you,” Viktor begins with an easy smile that doesn’t match his words, and Yuuri whirls around to face him with wide eyes that grow wider still when he realizes what Viktor had just said.

“I—uh—I’m sorry?” Yuuri looks just about ready to bolt, brown eyes flitting towards the exits like some trapped forest animal.

Viktor makes a show of crossing his arms, leaning against the divider. "You should be,” he says haughtily, before continuing, “Because we could have been drinking good coffee all this time."

A beat of silence passes, then another, before Yuuri is spluttering, an incredulous expression replacing the hunted look on his face. "Wait, what?"

"Your team has informed me that despite having a new and perfectly functional espresso machine—

The incredulity melts off of Yuuri’s face only to be replaced by sheer horror. “ _Oh god_." 

“—you would, every Thursday without fail, get coffee from the shitty coffee maker at my break room,” Viktor finishes, heart beating a drumbeat inside his chest, because what if Yuuri’s team was wrong—

“I can explain,” Yuuri blurts out, face burning a fire-engine red, his gaze averted, and _okay, yeah, maybe Yuuri’s team had a point_.

Still, it wouldn’t hurt to check.

“You can explain it to me over a cup of coffee at that new cafe by the station.”

Yuuri falters. “Are you asking me out because of the whole—” He trails off, making some sort of gesture with his hands that’s lost on Viktor until he adds, “Eros thing? Because I’m not always like that and I don’t want to disappoint you—”

“Yuuri, I hate the coffee at our break room,” Viktor confesses, cutting Yuuri off before he has any chance to complete that thought. “I loathe it. I have tried so many times to get rid of that coffee maker and Yakov just has it fixed every single time and fills it with tar. But I spend my Thursday afternoons drinking shitty coffee in hopes that you’ll show up.” Yuuri’s mouth had fallen open in the wake of his confession, and Viktor wants very much to dip in for a taste. “I would be lying if I said that the whole Eros thing didn’t factor in, but I _have_ been trying to ask you out for four months now.”

“I thought you were just being nice,” Yuuri whispers, looking up at Viktor with bright eyes.

Viktor opens and closes his mouth a few times, at a loss for words as he looks at Yuuri helplessly. He’s about to muster up another speech—a premature confession that he should probably be saving until he’s at least gotten a second date—when Yuuri smiles, cheeks dimpling, and it’s as if the sun has come out, warming Viktor from the inside out.

“I’m kinda sick of coffee, to be honest,” Yuuri begins, reaching over to smooth a hand down Viktor’s chest and stepping close to peer at him through thick, dark lashes. Not always Eros, _his ass._ “But I wouldn’t say no to dinner.”

"Dinner sounds wonderful." 

**Author's Note:**

> Omake:
> 
> "Seung-gil's going to pay for our dinner because we just won him the betting pool."
> 
> "Your team has a betting pool about us?"
> 
> "And yours doesn't?"
> 
> "Point. I think Mila won."


End file.
